Bohemians
by truthsetfree
Summary: Anything you recognize does not belong to me. RLSB
1. Ransacked

Title: Ransacked  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I do not own JK Rowling's stuff. Nor do I own C. S. Lewis.' For the record, I've never read any of the Narnia books.  
Feedback: is always appreciated.

"Well, I guess this would be a clear sign we need to move."  
His voice sounded odd. As though he'd spoken from the bottom of a deep well.  
Sirius blinked at the wreck of their apartment, but made no reply.  
"They know where we live."  
Cushions, books, and papers were strewn about. Shards of glass and sherds of china formed an untidy pile in the corner and scattered outwards. Clothes had been tossed randomly throughout the apartment, dangling on broken upturned furniture. That which hadn't been turned to kindling and splinters. Shelves were pulled out, broken in the middle, sagging, and leaning at unlikely angles. The curtains had been pulled off their rod, and there was a small fire still burning in the trashcan.  
"They know we live together."

A hour ago they'd been laughing. A minute ago their only plans for the remainder of the evening involved soft sheets and shared cigarettes.

Sirius looked down and picked up something dark and shiny. His muggle record of Rocky Horror.  
"Come on. Let's clean what we can and then we'll owl James. And Dumbledore."  
"We should owl them first."  
"OK."  
_At least he's speaking._  
"How did they-?"  
"Regulus."  
"Ah."_ Of course Regulus would know how to get around Sirius' wards._  
He waved the fire away with a numb hand.  
The cage was a mess of twisted bars and dents. The door clung by what little remained of hinges. And no owl inside.  
"Glimfeather!"  
Sirius looked up from where he still stood, checking his pockets.  
He heard a cautious hoot by the window.  
They shared a look of relief.  
"I don't have a quill on me."  
He dug into his pocket as he approached the window.  
"Hey there. It's just us now. You're OK."  
Large gold eyes regarded him solemnly.  
A rustle of wings and Glimfeather was inside.  
"Quill?" Sirius was somehow beside him now.  
"Right. Here."  
Taking a title page from the floor, Sirius tore the paper in half and wrote hurriedly.  
"Take this one to Dumbledore, and this one to James."  
He rolled the scraps and placed them into Glimfeather's red leather pouch, and they both watched powerful wings beat an eager departure.  
"Well, we were just saying we had too much stuff."  
Remus let out a brief choke of a laugh.  
"Doubt we'll get our deposit back."


	2. Bohemians

Author's note: In previous fics, I have given the lads furniture, and even a permanent residence. But a permanent residence makes finding vigilante types easy. So I got to thinking…  
Inspiration: "We're flat broke, but hey we do it in style."  
Title: Bohemians  
Feedback: is welcome  
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own her stuff.  
Word count: 101

The war makes constant mobility necessary. Bohemian values make it fun. More than once, they've warmed themselves with crumpled attempts at poetry. They don't own any furniture, but more than one nice pub has more wine crates than they know what to do with, and a few of these stuck together make a perfectly serviceable table. Chairs can be salvaged from dumpsters. The wood is worn, and the paint is chipped. Sometimes a leg is missing. But sanding is cheap therapy, and legs can be easily replaced. At least on chairs. The bed is the only thing they bother to Transfigure.


	3. Cheap Therapy

Title: Cheap Therapy  
Rated: G  
Word count: 103  
Feedback: is welcome  
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, I do not own her stuff.

The slow and rhythmic scritch-scratch of sand on wood is soothing.  
Tiring arms are enough to realize you made it home, and your arms are still attached to your body, and for that you should be grateful.  
The sound is enough to drown out the screams sometimes.  
There's a certain satisfaction in seeing the pile of finely ground paint and polish grow into a small mountain range that stretches across old newspaper.  
And the wood when you are done, dull but smooth, can be painted any colour, or just left as it is, reminiscent of Vincent's starry sky, a flurry of pointillist swirls.


End file.
